


They Are Told

by lesbianettes



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: (In that Will hurts himself in a state of panic), Angst, Brain Dysfunction, Hurt No Comfort, Manipulation, Possessive Hannibal Lecter, Seizures, Self-Harm, Will Graham Has Encephalitis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:21:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27272593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbianettes/pseuds/lesbianettes
Summary: Will suffers a seizure.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 4
Kudos: 138





	They Are Told

It happens on a tuesday afternoon at a crime scene, one belonging to the Chesapeake Ripper. Will’s been acting a little strangely all morning, to the point that even the crime scene techs are on edge around him. It’s not like in the Georgia Madchen case, where he got so lost in it all that he put his hands on the victim, or like his usual strangeness and inability to interact in the socially acceptable ways, but rather as though there is a different person on the other side of his eyes- a child, even, lost and confused. He’s talking but it makes next to no sense. Even Hannibal is watching Will with an extra note of concern as he talks to the dead body. 

“He usually says I,” Beverly says. “He talks about the killer like they’re the same person. ‘I did this. My design. My kill. He’s not doing that today.”

“You’re correct. He’s using third person pronouns,” Hannibal adds.

Their meaning dawns on Jack. “Will isn’t doing his thing.”

“No, he isn’t.”

Hannibal takes the first step forward. It’s an open crime scene, with nowhere to hide anything from anyone, which makes it visible what happens next. First, Will freezes up. Then his pupils dilate like he’s taken a shot of heroin. Then he begins to tremble violently, and they all hurry forward. Of course, Hannibal reaches him first, cupping his face carefully to see if the shaking is something that can be stopped, and then letting it go when it becomes obvious it’s uncontrollable. He lifts his eyelids but it remains just white. 

“Dr. Lecter?”

“He’s having an episode.”

Beverly joins him on her knees in the dirt, helping him bring Will to a lying position on his side, letting foam drool from his mouth onto the ground, clearly a move to prevent him from choking on it. Jack’s phone is in his hand right away, the only thing he can do right now, calling for help. An ambulance to the fresh crime scene for his special agent. He’s in the middle of describing the seizure (and the fact that Will hasn’t ever had one to his knowledge) when Dr. Lecter holds out a hand. 

“Don’t, he’s alright.”

Will throws up properly, actual acid and bile rather than spit, which Jack looks pointedly at. “He’s not alright, he’s having a seizure. Yes, operator, I’m still here.”

Hannibal’s eyes flash with genuine anger for just long enough to notice, but then they return to his usual aloof vague concern for Will. The ambulance arrives in minutes, minutes during which Will’s fit gets worse, and then slowly turns to him laying on the cold ground and twitching like a fish held out of the water. His eyes stay open. Eventually, the blue irises return. Once he’s conscious again, he sits up, shivering, and looking around wildly, every bit a cornered wild animal. He shoves Beverly away harshly when she reaches too close to him.”

“Will,” Hannibal says softly. “Will, you need to take a deep breath.”

“Don’t touch me!”

He scrambles back in the way that crabs move along the sand, going until his back hits the tree at the edge of the clearing they’re in, at which point he covers his eyes and claws at his face in his distress, doing it again and again until blood appears on his skin in a mockery of his ever-present tears. 

“Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me!”

Hannibal waits for him to stop screaming before approaching again and pulling Will’s hands from his face, completely uncaring of how much he struggles and cries and begs to know what’s going on. That’s how the paramedics find the scene, and what keeps them three steps back as Will thrashes and demands to be let go. 

“He’s in a volatile postictal state,” Hannibal says calmly. “He’s hurt himself. I did not think an ambulance was needed, but since you’re here, you can help treat his wounds.”

Will cries out a refusal, but Hannibal has no trouble holding him in place, his hands betraying the strength of his grip- his knuckles are white, tense like his jaw, until one brave paramedic kneels beside him and turns Will’s face to the side in a gloved hand. 

“It’s procedure to sedate violent patients,” the paramedic says, and injects something into the vein along the side of his neck, sending Will into a much calmer state almost immediately. His eyes flutter, lashes on his cheeks like spiderwebs, until they shut. “We’ll take him to the hospital for an evaluation and to make sure everything is alright.”

“I’m his psychiatrist,” Hannibal argues. 

It doesn’t stop the paramedics from loading Will’s limp body onto a gurney and using the soft restraints on him to keep him from hurting himself again, should he wake up. Jack is invited along as his supervisor and friend. Hannibal is not. Jack watches Will slowly come to from the sedation, just as confused and afraid as before. His “violent” reaction was fear, that much seems obvious to anyone who knows him, and he shouldn’t be treated as a threat when all he truly is is sick. Hurt. 

“Mr. Graham, have you ever had a seizure before?” the other paramedic asks. She shines a penlight into his eyes until he flinches and turns away. “Any period of lost consciousness, dissociation?”

“I- I- sometimes I- the other day- I didn’t- 7:15-” his words sound scrambled. 

She shushes him. “Okay. It’s okay. You can answer that later. Do you know what day it is? Who you are?”

Those questions, at least, Will answers with some semblance of cognizance, and it satisfies the paramedics until arrival at the hospital, where Will’s face is bandaged before he is whisked away for brain scans. Beverly, Alana, and Hannibal arrive shortly thereafter, all worried, and join Jack in the waiting room for the two hours it takes to find out.

“Encephalitis,” they are told. “An entire hemisphere of his brain is inflamed,” they are told.

“It should have shown up on Dr. Sutcliffe’s scans.”

They are told.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr @neworleansspecial


End file.
